A Litte Bit of Stir and A Lot of Crazy
We knew it would happen. They're so spoiled about their daily outings; the library, the grocery store, the park, the pool, a friend's house. Shaun and I are enjoying the down-time... if you could call it that. And Jack is just peachy. But the other two- OH the other two... where to begin?
Well, for one, when Madalyn kissed me a few minutes ago she smelled of coffee and aftershave, which says what she busied herself with this morning. That and paint. Blue paint. Blue paint that she and Evan painted the walls, the window sill, the secretary's desk, and the carpet with... oh and a pink kickboard?? Then Evan told on himself. Then they both sat side by side in their naughty chairs- paint head to toe and greatly resembling members of Blue Man Group- while Shaun and I cleaned. Then they got their spankings, then a shower... where Evan had the nerve to request a cup. Of course, your Highness! And his kickboard. Will that be all, your Majesty?
Evan is even asking to go back to the doctor again, like he did for his pink eye, because apparently even that was a step up from this ole' joint. And after all, he did wrap the entire place around his pinky finger with conversation fit for Kids Say the Darndest Things. When the doctor told him he had handsome eyes Evan added, "They're green" like yes they are handsome, but did you take note of the emerald abyss that lies therein? Then to the nurse, who was writing in his charts, he said, "are you writing down numbers about me? HEY! You have crocs!" He held up his shoe, "I have crocs, too!" Which is why he got delightful responses from the staff there, which is why he asked to go back to the doctor's, "the ones with the crocs." We tried to remind how in the depths of his pink eye misery he complained pathetically, "I don't want to be like this!" But to no avail- the doctor's office still trumps home. So today Shaun's taking him down to the parking lot to help him vacuum the car and move carseats around. For entertainment. For fun. This is what it's come to.
Madalyn is getting attention any way she can muster. She's putting the art in con-artist. Like last night, when she developed some pain in her hands. "They huuurt. Hands hurt, hands huuurt." She became limp-armed and pathetically ate her lasagna (thanks, Dana!) from Shaun's fork. She didn't even finish her garlic bread but weakly requested a shower. She got a shower. Then a movie.
During the movie Shaun moved her arms all around and not a sound, but as soon as it was over again, the acting resumed. We put her to bed while she continued to complain of pain, and even though we'd tested her, she was still so convincing I was actually considering the all-hours clinic. Evan was already asleep at that point, but soon her whimpers were echoing from their monitor, so I went in to check on her. She seemed to think that if I would just coat her with enough butterfly kisses and Eskimo kisses and fishy kisses, the world would all be right again, her hands healed. Come morning she'd forgotten all about her ailment and so in my eyes had put on a truly Oscar-worthy performance. But I don't care. The cuddling with her was worth it. The moment when she looked at the streams of light that floated over her curtain rod and grabbed at the ceiling with shimmering fingers and exclaimed, "Oh my goodness, it's so pretty!" was worth it.
It's funny because I know most do go kind of crazy under confinement. But I'm not all that much of a social butterfly anyway. My tendency has always leaned more towards being a hermit. I like entertaining myself, having time to think and read and just "be." So I rather enjoy this time of lockdown, even if the kids don't. Shaun seems to be enjoying it, too. The memories made this week, and the slower pace Jack's brought with him is appreciated, and even treasured. It's like this little package of everything that really matters in life arrived at our door; it breathes peacefully, it sleeps peacefully, it's fragile and even sacred... so much so that it inspires everything around it to slow down and take on the same sort of reverence for life and family. For a parent, it inspires the opportunity to start fresh, the time to remember where things started with the others and what really matters.
Or as I described it to Shaun the other day in less grandiose terms; "It's like I look at him and I see a clean slate. Like we haven't had a chance to mess him up yet."
And all of the sudden I find myself watching FOOD network and HGTV and I'm never felt so domestic in my life... and not because I'm scared of messing up or because I have a warped 1950's view of what it means to be a mother and wife, but because I want to serve my family. They are my greatest treasure.
And I start rethinking parenting philosophies and praying for them more often. I start noticing things like how selfish parenting resorts in either over-reacting to situations because they inconvenience you, or under-reacting to situations because it would inconvenience you... how being a really good parent means being a really mature person. I've heard it said that sometimes people have kids because it makes them feel young, but I like how it makes me feel old. How it calls me to something higher than serving myself and reminds me of what a sacrificial life is all about even the third time around, because what they say is true; the third time really is a charm.
